


Low Maintenance in Billington Tower

by DetectiveLestrvde



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-19 01:12:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1449805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DetectiveLestrvde/pseuds/DetectiveLestrvde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>/ Will be written on a later date /</p>
            </blockquote>





	Low Maintenance in Billington Tower

_Stories from the journals of the late Doctor Watson and Mr.Holmes and their experiences in New London._

_ERD (Earth relative date) 21st of January, 6589.  
GD (Gaia date) 21st of January, 1869._

 

     I had just finished off my last day of work at the office. I was glad to be breaking free of my idle life once again to be joining Mr.Holmes in the pursuit of London's most notorious. The solar-powered train engine lugged along ever late as usual and I found my self conversing with the mother of a child who I nursed through the flu a year back. Her name was Lilith, a widow who lost her husband to one of those contract labs who experiment on you until they let your heart stop beating. Tragic a man has to subject himself to such things to ensure his families well being. She was well off from it but couldn't find a doctor who would do a home visit for her daughters.

 

     "You know, our kind being near exotic now makes us a risky bunch," she said in a hushed tone, tracing an R on her wrist for recessive. I couldn't agree less, considering I dyed my hair brown and sun darkened skin. Slave trading was on the rise again and though many people entered via legal contract there were still those who were 'napped up for breeding purposes. The preferred pet now a days were fair pigmented people and went for top dollar, about as much as the Queens biggest Earth Opal. Those who are 'essives' usually have a difficult time walking plainly through new London with out some cosmetic changes. I agreed to stop by her flat, it was only a few blocks over from Baker Street which was a safe distance to walk alone without carrying a weapon. 

 

    We had arrived at Billington Tower no later than six o'clock. She had been rambling on about rugs as we rode the lift. A strange sound caught my attention so I hushed her. The lift came to a sudden stop between floors and I heard a strain of metal on metal from above. The cable snapped and the lift fell a few feet before the breaks auto locked. Ms.Lilith and I both took a sigh of relief too soon, the breaks disengaged and the lift began zipping down, fifty floors between us and death. My mind raced as the speed picked up and my stomach was left behind. I punched my left hand through the lift wall, the skin and muscle exterior ripping from my metal construction. I gritted my teeth against the friction and pain shooting through my arm. In hindsight there could have been a better way to stop the lift, but I wasn't interested in death or full body reconstruction at the time. The lift slowed as we stopped somewhere below the ground floor.

 

     Sliding down the wall I laid on the floor in shock as my flesh regenerated over hot metal. Once I became responsive Ms.Lilith helped me open the top on the lift. The lobby attendant called down asking us out condition, "We're all right," I yelled back, " call Sherlock Holmes!" I also relayed Ms.Liliths room number and to him to check on her daughter after phoning Holmes.

 

     In the mean time I assessed the situation the best I could. The cable was too cleanly broken for it to have snapped on its own accord, and the breaks failing was all too convenient. 'Ms.Lilith, would there be any reason someone would make a try on your life?' I asked her through the trap door. "Not that I can think of, I am a recessive though." I rolled my eyes exasperated by the sound of her voice at this point, "They'd want you alive then, not dead."

 

     A moment of silence passed between us before she spoke again. "Dr.Watson, what happened to your arm?" I sighed and seated myself despite the fact I'd ruin a good pair of trousers. I told her I severed in the army, got shot and lost arm function and the army paid for a replacement. She asked if it affected me any I told her no. Though at this point the sugars I needed to function were on low because of how quickly the micro tech reconstructed the flesh on my hand. I've had worse pain but its enough to render me incoherent for a while it happens.

 

     I heard the shaft open a floor above. Sherlock peered over the edge, "You must be having a grand time Dr.Watson, considering you're in a dim, damp shaft," his melodic voice echoed off the walls, grinding my gears already. "I will be once I'm close enough to punch you in that smart mouth of yours Mr.Holmes." They lowered the latter and I helped Ms.Lilith up. Sherlock took my case and hat and gave me a hand out of the shaft. "Looks like we've got a case," I dusted off my trousers the best I could "Attempted murder?" I nodded confirming his deduction.

 

"Its going to be a nice long for us evening then, John," he smiled taking a long drag from his e-hookah. 


End file.
